Chapter 19 - Captivity really bites...

Despite only traveling from the edge of the small town back to the docks the Dervish’s had managed to make the trip take all day. Though as Wiesse had built up an unexpected rapport with a few of their members he did learn that the length of the time was due to a few detours so that members of the mercenaries could collect supplies from secret stashes unseen to their captor. Supplies that Wiesse had no doubt were going to cause his friends trouble and hardship in the event of his rescue… if they were coming for him at all he deigned to think.

As the day had progressed into the late evening the sky was a dull grey and there was a pleasant chill in the air making its way in through the large high up windows of the warehouse. The hectic bustle of the dock had petered out, men could still be heard shouting and working but the frantic tones had shifted to loud pleasantries and playful banter as the few remaining workers took a more relaxed approach to their duties, less rafts pulling in from now until the morning.

Once they had brought him inside Wiesse was removed from his bindings and given a degree of free reign within the Dervish’s secret den. As per the instructions of the Dborin leader Lettie and Lottie were positioned either side of the double doors, though they had both adopted a leisurely stance, one leaning and the other squatting, waiting on Hestor’s signal from outside.

Most of the boxes and crates had been stacked towards the rear of the vast chamber, creating what was essentially a wide room by the entrance. The odd box had been positioned with some apparent tactical purpose, but those that didn’t form a wall at the back were positioned around as almost furniture. The burley fighter had taken the Roskin and a few of the others to a makeshift table and chairs formed from a large and wide chest and some of the smaller crates and the Dborin had left with the interpreter to the back. Another makeshift room created behind the great wall of boxes that seemingly only they were privy too.

Wiesse was slightly taken aback by his freedom of movement. He walked around the room, the open space didn’t give any areas of cover, so he was always in the open being watched. But no one stopped him when curiosity got the better and he opened one of the crates for a peek inside. It turned out that shipping crates were sealed quite well with hammer and nail so after struggling with the lid for a few moments a very loud and attention-grabbing creak of splintering wood and the metallic pop of nails pinging echoed around the warehouse as he successfully pried it open. Seemingly a whole family of rats darted out of the box and ran to the safety of the next nearest crate which caused Wiesse to jump out of the way and cry out. He heard Lettie and Lottie sniggering and felt no small amount of embarrassment. This was amplified when he looked into the crate and found nothing, but a pile of hay used to secure a single large vase.

“What were you expecting to see, little man?” The burly fighter asked from across the way.

Wiesse shrugged, “Honestly? I have no fucking clue. Maybe some food, who knows I’m pretty hungry”

“Huyan has food for you, sit, we play dice.” When the fighter spoke, the monkey man’s name the Roskin began hooting and howling as he usually did. Wiesse was pretty sure these were hostile vocalisations but in contrast Huyan pulled up a box-stool for Wiesse, patted it in a welcoming gesture and produced from somewhere on his person a small parcel.

Wiesse took the seat and parcel, then looked down to see what Dice game they were playing. He couldn’t be sure if there were intricate rules or something far more complicated to it than there appeared to be but ‘play dice’ apparently meant rolling a couple and then letting someone else roll them. Somehow this had everyone at the table’s attention.

“I am Bat Bat.” The fighter said after he let loose the gaming tools, he rolled seven. “I came here with Huyan a long time ago. The work is good and honest. We are sorry that our meeting came to blows.”

Wiesse raised an eyebrow at the sentiment of honest work, he didn’t have kidnap in the top five most noble professions. One of the Dervish’s spearmen rolled the next set, a four and a two.

“You know the fighting and kidnapping aside you aren’t the worst we’ve had to deal with. I’m actually just surprised no one got eaten. Lichter does like to eat people who piss him off.” Weisse checked out the food that he had unwrapped from the monkey man’s parcel. Aside from the obvious hair stuck to it the food looked ok, some meat and salad in a flatbread. He brushed the hair off and took a bite. It had none of the love that Troit’s cooking had, none of the seasoning or spices he knew how to work in, but it was serviceable. It was only a little off putting that it was still warm from wherever the Roskin was hiding it.

“Huyan next, then it is your turn.” Bat Bat said, and he passed the dice to his friend.

A six and a five. Wiesse picked the dice off the table and tossed them down with a slight flick of the wrist. They knocked about and landed on a three and a two.

“Huh…” Bat Bat said, and Huyan was hooting in a chitter that Wiesse was certain was laughter.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“What, what does that mean?”

“It means you won.”

Wiesse looked at the dice. He had no idea what the rules or purpose of the game was, but he was a fan of any game he could win that easily. “So…” He said, “Want to put money on it and play again?”

-

After a few hours the sun had descended, and darkness layered the warehouse in a thick curtain. It was only once the sunlight had all but disappeared that torches were lit and sconces on the walls filled with burning parcels to give the Warehouse light. As almost an afterthought.

Wiesse had tried to have a nap after being denied further goes at the dice game but wherever he lay to rest a rat soon sniffed at him and woke him from his slumber.

Whilst ‘Nightfall’ was not a clear distinct time it was what could now be considered the moment that the Dborin had instructed to meet with the crew for the handover for Lichter.

From the rear ‘room’ the leader of the Dervish’s returned with the interpreter. They came over to Wiesse and with a snap of his fingers Bat Bat had appeared beside him and hoisted Wiesse to his feet with ease.

“Your friends are not here yet. This is good.” The interpreter translated.

“Well to be honest I’m starting to think they’ve weighed up my and Lichter’s use on the team and chosen to keep the fat crocodile bastard that murders everything you put in front of it. But look, pity, maybe if you had taken Troit then Yerin would have come to get him but since I don’t see Ross doing a daring rescue how about I just leave and then everyone is happy.”

“No.” A simple enough reply that didn’t leave room for bargaining. “Our master would like to meet you.”

Wiesse gave a slew of questions but was ultimately ignored. The Dborin had again clicked his fingers at Bat Bat who moved off to the back room.

The silence was palpable around Wiesse as the room took on a sombre tone, he was sure it became darker as the Dervish’s closed in around him. The Dborin opened up his arms as though for an embrace but settled his hands in an upward turned position thumb making a ring with the middle finger in a motion that Wiesse could only assume was some kind of prayer or meditation. When he spoke to Wiesse the Dborin used the common tongue in an eloquent speech pattern hereto un-witnessed by the actor.

“You are to be graced with the presence of our master. The Kind one, and the unwavering one. You can feel blessed in this moment.”

“Honestly? Feeling kind of nervous actually.”

“Nerves are not needed. He has heard of how you intermingle with our team so readily and he is willing to welcome you into our midst should you chose too.”

“Nah I’m good.” Wiesse said matter of factly.

“Let not my words be cause for your judgement. Allow him to speak to you himself.”

There was a moments silence around the room, Wiesse looked to Lottie and Lettie for some hint of assistance, but they were hidden in the darkness.

“Now.” Said the Dborin and took in a deep breath. A further moments silence.

“Am…. Am I talking to the master right now?” Wiesse asked and the silence became more awkward, the Dborin looked up with a puzzled expression, “Like… is… is it you? But you know…. Not you?”

“What?”

“Like different… maybe?”

“No.”

“Oh, that’s good. Thought one of us was going a bit mad here.” Wiesse said and looked around for anyone amused he could use for support. No smiles, tough crowd.

The Dborin regained his composure took a bow and then moved to reveal their ‘master’.

In the darkness Bat Bat had retrieved from the back room and before Wiesse he had now placed a large ornate casket.

“Oh shit.” Wiesse said, “Is he dead?”

“More like, the undead.” The Dborin spoke, and with the assistance of his now seemingly unnecessary translator they removed the lid from the casket and revealed a rather small man. The figure was probably only a third the height of the casket and with the lid removed he stepped out, did a small stretch, intentionally bore his fangs and sized Wiesse up.

A Vampire.

“Well, what do we have here. I send my men out for a new pet, and they bring me a supposed funny man!” The vampire spoke with a markedly high tenor pitched voice that caught Wiesse entirely off guard, and he snorted back a laugh.

For the vampire’s part he didn’t respond to Wiesse’s obvious disrespectful countenance.

“My name is Horace, and I have been around for a very, very long time.” The vampire said, he was pale, extremely thin and bald, looking like a childish caricature of his kind, he strode confidently around the room and caressed the cheeks of his close to hand Dervish’s with an oddly elongated finger, “And in that long time, I have collected many delectable specimens. My little pets so they are.”

Wiesse had gone from finding the strange little man amusing to suddenly very disturbing. He was fairly certain he could see the vampire dribble a little with a quivering lip as he called his cohort his ‘pets’.

Wiesse was also vaguely aware that Vampires can be dangerous. He was sure that had Ross been here in his place he would be eagerly dredging up some ancient lore and stories about them from his little adventurer’s pocketbook, but all Wiesse could recall was a story about how one Vamp’ could level a human city with ease – but he was fairly certain they had all been wiped out after The Ravaging, this could even be the last one left alive.

“Well, you seem lovely and your …pe- no, no can’t do it. Your friends here have been very accommodating, but I’m not really interested in joining. Nor would my friend Lichter, we are both very happy where we are you know, and I just don’t see us breaking up the crew to hang out here. So, we’re going to pass. Sorry.” Wiesse said, he dragged the sentence out for as long as he could as he slowly edged towards the door, hoping he may be able to disappear unabated.

A firm hand grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about being nervous.” Horace said, “Everyone is a little nervous at first.”

With that he licked his lips and brought his fangs to bear. Walking slowly and confidently towards Wiesse. The actor now saw the faint flicker of a glow in the eyes of the Dervish’s, a meddlers flame playing in the back of their eyes as they approached with their master. That was when Wiesse remembered two other things about Vampires.

One, Thralls. Mind manipulated puppets who follow the bidding of whichever Vampire it is that bit them. Powerless to resist his commands and magically instructed to carry out their will.

Two. That they were all massive assholes.